Line 10.
Filled with fury, rapt, inspired.
Line 28.
'Twas sad by fits, by starts 'twas wild.
Line 60.
In notes by distance made more sweet.
Line 68.
In hollow murmurs died away.
Line 95.
O Music! sphere-descended maid,
Friend of pleasure, wisdom's aid!
* * * * *
_Eclogue_ 1. Line 5.
Well may your hearts believe the truths I tell;
'Tis virtue makes the bliss, where'er we dwell.
* * * * *
_Ode on the Death of Thomson_.
In yonder grave a Druid lies.
* * * * *
MARK AKENSIDE.
1721-1770.
_Epistle to Curio_.
The man forget not, though in rags he lies,
And know the mortal through a crown's disguise.
* * * * *
NATHANIEL COTTON.
1721-1788.
_The Fireside_. St. 3.
If solid happiness we prize,
Within our breast this jewel lies;
And they are fools who roam:
The world has nothing to bestow;
From our own selves our joys must flow,
And that dear hut--our home.
St. 13.
Thus hand in hand through life we'll go;
Its checkered paths of joy and woe
With cautious steps we'll tread.
* * * * *
JOHN HOME.
1722-1808.
_Douglas_. Act i. Sc. 1.
In the first days
Of my distracting grief, I found myself
As women wish to be who love their lords.
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